


The Forgotten Guardian

by Lupercal12



Series: Alphonse De Sardet [3]
Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Lost Love, Sad Ending, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29895060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupercal12/pseuds/Lupercal12
Summary: A glimpse into the life of the Nadaig that is encountered in Serene and the circumstances that led it into the unfortunate showdown with De Sardet.
Series: Alphonse De Sardet [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946386
Kudos: 2





	The Forgotten Guardian

Fiadh walked through the forest silently and purposefully. Her pace was slow and her footsteps flat. She moved, relying on the dim light of the moon penetrating through the high treetop canopies for guidance. Fiadh adjusted the rough cloak around her body, eyes not straying from the ground from a bowed head. Beneath the cover, fingers from both hands traced the surface of a square clay seal on a leather cord hanging from her neck. Days, when she spent hours sitting in meditation with it were a lifetime ago. Blurry and elusive, like a fading dream trying to be recalled.

It was only now Fiadh had felt the desire to carry it about her after having buried it into her possessions to be forgotten. It seemed only proper to meet her destiny with the right spirit.

 _Give yourself to the island,_ she told herself without much enthusiasm. Fiadh paused as she racked her mind for other old dusty phrases of wisdom practiced by _voglendaiga_ and _doneigada_. She slowed her fingers over the seal, breathing deep. _Draw strength from the trees; their roots are deep and anchored with conviction. Tir Fradi is alive, child,_ _and you are of its earth, one with everything … what you give is what you will receive in return_ …. Who had taught her that? She wondered for a moment, confused.

Nuallan. Old and stooped Nuallan, always grinning and full of proverbs, her teacher dead and nearly forgotten. Shame and heartache crushed her chest then, and Fiadh shut her eyes and gripped the gifted seal close to her. Who else had she neglected, those who were once so close to her heart, her clansmen? Sean. Berget. _Tad_ and _Matir_. Hines, Ea, Leofel. Oh, who else? She cursed the grief and pain that turned her away from their memories.

She felt her legs tremble, and she stopped. Fiadh pulled out the seal and kissed it. She vowed to the volcano that she would right their murders. _After tonight, it will be our_ _turn to strike_ , she thought grimly.

The snapping of a branch sounded out in the quiet air. Fiadh let the seal fall, and she spun around, looking through the trees for the source. To her left, some distance away, she saw some bushes shake slightly through her straining eyes. One hand went to the short club at her side, and she slowly approached. When Fiadh neared, she raised the club at the ready. Flames burst from nowhere to cover the enchanted weapon’s head. When she came within arm's length, heart beating quickly, a voice called out from inside.

“Fiadh, it’s me,” A boy came out from hiding. Fiadh sighed, returning her club to her belt, the magic vanishing while she gave the newcomer a disapproving shake of her head. “Duane,” she said.

Duane was a dark-skinned youth with still some growing left, a bald head painted ashen white. He wore a tattered warrior’s furs. Apprehension was grave on his face.

“Have you been following me since I left camp?” she demanded. Of all their group, Duane was one of the younger and more burdensome rebels. Many times, Fiadh could count that she had to pick up his share of the work or watch his back in battle. So many had to pay for their mistakes ….

“I couldn’t believe you were coming to do this all alone,” he said, nodding his head.

“I wanted to, Duane,” she answered him.

There was a point where it was discussed if Fiadh would like the company or at least a select number as an escort for her safety. Fiadh had refused, offered her reassurances that same day when they had set camp. Cathal, their leader, had shrugged almost indifferently. She would have set off earlier had Ruy not persuaded her for a final supper with the band. Fiadh need only see the desperation in the foolish man’s eyes to acquiesce to his act of kindness. The meal had been eaten with the atmosphere of a burial. Sad looks adorned everyone though it seemed few could face her then at their head. Fiadh ate silently.

When the time came, she left without ceremony. Words were exchanged with Cathal to reunite the following morning; for some select others, she shared a look or a farewell. When it came to Ruy, the large bearded ulg took her by the arm.

“Are you sure?” he asked her. “I beg that you will reconsider this path before it is too late,”

Fiadh pulled away and left those who had been her fellows for several years.

“But are you not afraid?” asked Duane confused. “Are you too stubborn and full of pride to refuse your friends at your side?”

_Carants? Us? You were not my company all these years by choice, foolish Duane. All that tied us together was our thirst for vengeance against the renaigse. Now, after tonight, perhaps I will not need you anymore. The Doneia Egsregaw is a broken promise. I am the only one able to make the necessary sacrifices to pay the invaders back for all their crimes._

“Return to the camp, Duane,” she told him sternly.

“Have you not considered what Ruy said? Perhaps this is not necessary. Fiadh, this is so … so extreme,” he babbled.

“I have made my choice with Cathal’s approval,”

“But we need you!”

Fiadh had heard enough. She took him by one shoulder and directed the boy back the path they came and shoved him. Once Faidh would have done worse, but restraint stayed her fury. After all their battles, to have lost so many men and women, honorable warriors, while witless children survived defied comprehension, she thought.

Duane righted himself, turning to see Fiadh stalk away. Fiadh took up her seal again. In vain, she tried to find her center, her handling of the seal was rough, and soon she gave up on it. Fiadh heard footsteps behind her. Ignoring them, she increased her pace. Feeling a hand go for her shoulder, she struck it and turned around again. Duane stared at her, and for a moment, she was taken aback by how vulnerable he looked. His eyes were wide with emotion and desperation.

“Fiadh,” he breathed. “Please, do not turn me away before its too late to make amends.”

 _No. I will not have this conversation with you,_ Fiadh thought angrily. Her hands balled into fists, and the boy tensed in anticipation for a blow. _You wouldn’t need to make amends; this wouldn’t be happening if -_

“I am so sorry for Imogen,” said Duane quietly.

Fiadh stifled a cry in her throat. Her fists uncurled and curled as she stood undecided as to whether to hit the boy. She bit her lip hard enough to taste the iron of her blood.

“You dare speak her name?” she hissed. “She did not have to die saving your useless hide!” Duane winced like he had been struck. “Why the _Doneia Egsregaw_ would have use for a dumb child like you, I will never know!”

“Because I wanted to fight the _renaigse_ , for my family, for my clan!” shouted Duane. His voice carried grief to match hers then. “I have nowhere else to go!”

A stretch of silence followed. The youth waited. Fiadh stared at him, measuring him anew. _Another without a family or clan? A village destroyed?_ she thought, just like so many.

And like some surrendering themselves to dreams of vengeance and the fight for survival. The _Doneia Egsregaw_ , for all its faults, fought while others bickered amongst themselves or remained nonhostile out of fear. Not them. They fought with or without Vinbarr and their brothers. And they would risk dying too. Like all of Tir Fradi’s clans, there were its own groups and divisions in the rebels. Allies and rivals formed themselves along the same lines when possible, or from desperation, some bands would carry _Yecht Fradi_ of different clans taking the likelihood of incident and infighting. How fragile was their unity against the fight for their home. Where was Vinbarr?

Looking harder at Duane, Fiadh realized that he didn’t even have a lone whisker on his face. He indeed was just a boy carrying far too much responsibility on his shoulders.

“What clan were you from?” she asked.

“What should it matter?” Duane answered. “The Lions set us running after burning our village to the ground so they may claim territory for their city.”

 _The Lions did the same for me, too,_ she thought.

In the night it happened, when they were in their beds. The woods around their homes burned, the great flames spread to the buildings. Awaken, half asleep and terrified, they emerged from their abodes, some more alert making to deal with the fires, the rest screaming. Then the Lions came, like a lightning clap, bursting from the woods a dozen riding atop strange beasts with their curved blades. They trampled over the villagers, cutting them down from behind advanced more warriors on foot. Those who fled in the opposite direction encountered a second band of enemy warriors, surprising them with an attack from their strange weapons.

Fiadh ran like a headless tetra in her fear. She remained low, ducking behind homes, watching the carnage unfold. She saw poor Nuallan limping for his life when he was rode into by one of the strange beasts. He did not rise. Leofel, her fellow _voglendaig_ was encircled like prey by the Lions. He spun in all directions with his blade, trying not to give them any opening, but they sprang at once, wrestling him to the ground, taking his weapon, and beating him with the butts of their weapons. Ea, who had been her oldest friend and _minundhanem_ to Hines, was half-naked, screaming as she fought off a man while still carrying her wailing newborn. The monster did not think she was worth the effort in the end and drew his blade.

Fiadh, closed her eyes. She turned away, crouching even more, and upon opening her eyes, realized her parents were nowhere in sight. The chaos became indiscernible. She could make out nothing between the flames and smoke. Fear overpowered her, and she ran. She ran for her life.

 _Forgive me, I was young and terrified,_ Fiadh thought sadly, seeing all their faces in her mind, eyes accusing and betrayed.

“Imogen was my friend, Fiadh, and I am sorry she died coming to my rescue,” said Duane. “Imogen did that often. She knew I was … useless.”

 _Wrong, Imogen saw worth in everyone, Duane, even you - especially you. I heard it from her lips myself in bed sometimes_ … Fiadh remembered those times where they lay together speaking, her head resting on Imogen listening to her sweet voice.

“Imogen was the best of us in our little camp, wasn’t she?” Fiadh asked, choosing to deflect Duane’s words.

Duane smiled, nodding, a hand wiping at his cheek, smudging the paint. “Yes, she was. She tried training me, you remember? I think towards the end, I was improving … She was patient and kind and told the funniest jokes. I remember one; about the hunter who went into the woods -”

“And came back with an arrow in his rear after trying to hunt the warthog,” Fiadh finished grinning. She chuckled despite herself.

“I miss her, Fiadh,” said Duane now somber.

Fiadh’s chuckle died.

“Would she want this, Fiadh?” Duane asked softly. He neared closer. “Ruy and I are not alone thinking this is wrong. If Imogen were alive, would you listen to her? Surely this is not what she would have wanted?”

Fiadh shook her head. “We will never know, Duane,”

Fiadh looked back to the path she was following. She had wasted enough time, she knew. Words and pleas would not dissuade her, and now they would not distract her.

“Come along if it will make you feel better, Duane,” Fiadh said, shrugging. “It is not very far now. Come then and be my guard.” and then she started walking.

Duane’s footsteps fell in line with hers. Fiadh did not bother with her seal anymore, choosing instead to think of Imogen, her plump lips, blue eyes, the shade of a bright sky, her freckled skin, and laugh. The mess of hair like a bird’s nest.

She thought back to the first time the seed of love was planted - Fiadh had gone to the river to bathe alone, and she saw her there naked with water to her waist. Fiadh only knew her then as a newer rebel to Cathal’s band, smiling easily and always laughing. Quickly she made friends of the camp while Fiadh scowled. What did this foolish woman have to feel joy for? They were rebels involved in a bloody war where they risked death and worse every day.

Fiadh chose to bathe a distance away. She went into the river, coming to a spot where the water rippled around her breasts. About her business, she did not notice after some time the woman staring at her. Fiadh froze and frowned. Imogen continued watching shamelessly. She even tilted her head, watching, amused. Fiadh feeling a warmth grow on her face, called her out. To her irritation, Imogen came to her, hands not bothering to cover herself. She stopped too close to Fiadh, who felt the urge to back away.

“I am so sorry, Fiadh” she said with a smile. “Do not think me crude. I was staring at your branches. I know I sound like a child, but I have always wondered how they feel. Tell me, do you sleep easily? Will they continue to grow?”

Fiadh only blinked as the questioning continued. She felt at the branches sprouting from her head. From the sides of her head like thick wings, jutted branches of dark wood close and intertwined. Fiadh had not thought much of them at all. Sleeping was irksome when she was restless or forgetful as she could only sleep flat on her back. Shedding bark was a chore. It was nothing she paid much mind to. The branches were another part of her body no different than a limb.

Imogen raised a hand to feel at the branches, and Fiadh let her. Her face grew hotter and spread down to her neck, trying to resist staring at the woman’s long neck, the freckles patterned across her small breasts.

“Just like the real thing!” Imogen exclaimed. She pulled back her hand and grinned at her.

Fiadh said nothing. Her thoughts were of escape. Running to the shore, taking her clothes, and fleeing. Instead, she found her eyes and drowned. She returned the grin.

Duane watched her, and Fiadh realized he had been speaking.

“Ruy says that he has never heard of one doing this. He wonders if it could be considered wrong, that the other _doneigada_ would call this -”

Fiadh cut him off. “What would Ruy know of it? He is not _On ol Menawi_. He is a good man. What he and you are doing, throwing your lots with Cathal is beyond me.”

“Fiadh,”

“Consider this Duane: how can we know when my time will come naturally? Will I live that long? This is better. I am no great warrior, and I am a simple _voglendaig_ who never completed her training. I will be more useful in the battles to come this way, Duane.”

“Fiadh, you could be a _doneigad_ , a great one!” Duane pressed. He leaned his head forward. “You could find a teacher. The _On ol Menawi_ are so important to our people; you represent the spirit and wisdom of our home and _En ol Mil Frichtimen_! You know your kind are disappearing, never to be seen again, Fiadh. What would we be without you? Not a people. Every _On ol Menawi_ is valuable.”

Once Fiadh would have, but that time passed. And she no longer cared. After her flight from her home, she was alone, left to gather her food, sustaining herself on pitiful handfuls of berries. She could not catch game. Fiadh slept beneath trees, exposed at night to the cold. She would have died if she had not wandered starved and lightheaded into Cathal’s camp. In exchange for warm meals and a bed, Fiadh, would pick up a weapon and fight. She did so eagerly with the slaughter of her village still fresh in her mind.

Fiadh succumbed to her anger, fear, and frustration in Cathal’s band. The brute encouraged it as he did with everyone, playing to their emotions, painting scenes of revenge and glory for the desperate and lost. Fiadh knew nothing else then, and soon enough, the people she had sworn to avenge faded. All that remained was the hate. It was like a slumber. And then Imogen came along, and Fiadh awoke eyes blinking astounded. From that first kiss, Fiadh gave the entirety of her being to her _minundhanem._ She laughed loudest at her jokes, exchanging sweet words under their covers, and dreamed of a day when their weapons could be laid down—a day where they could live properly together, perhaps in a new village, a new home.

“Find a teacher? Duane, you know as well as I that Cathal has a dark reputation. It has tainted us as well. I can’t think of any who would teach me, and besides ... I do not crave that life, not anymore for a long time.” explained Fiadh.

The youth looked at a loss for words. Fiadh rested a hand on Duane’s shoulder and spoke “Leave Duane, find a village to join. Do not put down your weapon if you wish but find yourself among better allies in the fight. Cathal will lead us to our deaths,” and she wanted to add _do not fall in love. You will die twice if you do._

“It could change, Ruy-”

“We are here, Duane,”

They had arrived at the linking site. The forest trees had thinned out into an opening of tall grass and shrubbery. Giant stone slabs decorated the area, tilting awkwardly, each planted at different heights on the uneven earth. Fiadh felt a tug at the center of her being; the grass seemed to sway at her sides just gently enough to touch her hands without a wind.

Together they stepped over the stone ring of the linking site's boundaries. Fiadh looked over each bonding stone with the expression of deference. Each stone represented a bond. A vow. A second life. Fiadh remembered old Nuallan and his adages. She thought of his wrinkled smile and warm eyes.

_Thus we are reborn like butterflies emerging from the cocoon; do not be afraid, child, rejoice! Flex your wings and fly! The light may be blinding and the colors brighter. Voices you have never heard before are whispering to you but embrace it!_

“Were you bonded here, Fiadh?” asked Duane.

“No,” she replied. “We are only here because it was practical that this site was so close. I do not feel strong enough to force a transformation on my own. The hope is that the magic here will give me the strength I need,”

They moved to the center of the site, where the grass was bare on a raised mound. Fiadh separated herself. Her hands went to her seal of their own accord. She heard her uneven breathing and felt shame. Fiadh chided herself for her sudden weakness.

 _So I complete my oath to En ol Mil Frichtimen,_ she thought. 

She went about opening the palm of one of her hands with a knife she carried. The pain was none existent. 

“May I stay and watch over you, Fiadh?” Duane asked her. His tone seemed so childlike and innocent like a boy asking a request of his parent. Fiadh nodded. Duane moved to stand some distance away. Fiadh sat down and crossed her legs.

“Think on what I said, Duane. Save yourself if you can. Our path is one of bloodshed. It’s the path of abandoned hope and vengeance.”

Fiadh closed her eyes and set the palms of her hands against the earth. With a long breath and centered mind, she drew from Tir Fradi. It was slow but came in a steady flow, calm and controlled. Fiadh felt strength she never possessed. Her back arched, and her teeth clenched. She squeezed her eyes tight, feeling alive with the force of nature. Soon, Fiadh felt as if her muscles were set aflame. She ground her teeth so hard they felt ready to crack. Then like rapids, did Tir Fradi send her the power she was calling. Fiadh cried out.

_Cair to, Imogen, you gave me so much joy in this life._

Dawn broke out over the treetops with a cloudless purple sky. From the trees, they came and moved into the linking site. Cathal at the front leading the camp, Ruy at his side. They approached slowly when they saw the great mass before them. It breathed in loud labored pants. Duane stood by its side. He had one hand on its arm, stroking it gently.

“It is done,” he said flatly. He cast his eyes to the ground and said no more.

Ruy stepped forward. He came close enough to touch it. He stared into the beast's eyes where they held. The large man’s adam apple bobbed. “Welcome back to us, my friend,” he said with a cracked voice. His face wracked and torn with emotion.“Welcome, Fiadh, great _Nadaig."_


End file.
